Fancy Meeting You Here
by Flobb
Summary: After Ron is a no-show for their long-coming nuptials, Hermione spends the evening drowning her sorrows amongst the usual unsavory crowd at the Leaky Cauldron. Imagine her surprise when through her drunken haze, she notes that the gorgeous man who approaches her bears a remarkable resemblance to someone she thought they'd lost long ago.


Summary: After Ron is a no-show for their long-coming nuptials, Hermione spends the evening drowning her sorrows amongst the usual unsavory crowd at the Leaky Cauldron. Imagine her surprise when through her drunken haze, she notes that the gorgeous man who approaches her bears a remarkable resemblance to someone she thought they'd lost long ago.

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world is the work and property of JK Rowling. The plot is my own.

Chapter One

"Hit me again, barkeep!"

Hannah Abbott rolled her eyes as she charmed away the empty glassware in front of me. She was disapproving, even in my inebriated state, that much I could certainly tell. Anyone that knew me knew that I was hardly a drinker, but if there was ever a night for me to let go of my inhibitions, tonight was it.

"I do think you've had enough, Granger," she replied, blowing a wisp of blonde hair out of her face as she made her way down the bar to attend to other drinking patrons.

"Like bloody hell I have! I'm a paying customer!" I shrieked pointedly, to which she responded with only a small, but stern wave. Clearly, she wanted me to lower my voice, or just shut my mouth altogether. I was too drunk to appease her. "I've seen men pass out here from the drink, when did this suddenly turn into an establishment that cares about the well-being of its customers? I'll quit drinking when I'm damn well good and ready!"

She ignored me. Both Hannah's did, as a matter of fact. She was too busy attending to the many sets of twins several stools over to pay me any mind. I sighed, and rested the side of my head down on the sticky bar, not even caring about the terrible old musk that entered my nostrils from the century old wood countertop. What I did care about, however, was the many bobby pins that were protruding into the skin of my scalp, that were aiding in keeping my hair in its lavish state.

With my head still resting on the counter, I began picking them out, one by one, and throwing them every which way.

I barely noticed when the barstool just to my left suddenly gained an occupant, and the wood creaked in resistance as they did so.

"You're done up a bit too fancily for just a night of drinks at the Leaky Cauldron," a deep, masculine voice said. The voice was far too close to be directed at anyone other than me, of that I was fairly certain.

I snorted in response. "Oh, really? Well, I was dressed just appropriately for my wedding that was meant to take place today," I retorted, but my voice was wavering in a very unsure way.

"Well, I feel rather sorry for the poor sap you left at the altar, because even from this angle, you look quite stunning."

This wonderfully sounding stranger sure had a lot of balls to be hitting on me, tonight of all nights. I needed to look this brave soul in the eyes. Perhaps, if we were both lucky enough, I could get him to sneak me some more alcohol.

"As a matter of fact, _he_ left-"

I sat up as I spoke, intrigued to see the face of this individual. I turned the seat of my stool, and was met with the most intensely grey eyes I'd even seen. But, I knew immediately that this wasn't the first time I was seeing them. And there were four of those grey eyes.

I blinked hard. And again. I was pleased to note that I was now down to staring into a single pair of eyes, but I was beyond shocked at whom they belonged to.

"_What?" _ I blurted, nearly toppling off the top of my stool. He grabbed my forearms with impressive reflexes, and gave a small, mischievous smile, as he steadied me upright again.

"You oughta be more careful there, love, it seems you've got quite a lot of alcohol in your system," he said, a smile in his voice.

"Apparently I'm far more drunk than I'd originally thought," I responded, putting my hands over my eyes. "I've never been drunk enough to see and converse with the dead."

The man looked at me quizzically, before giving me a lopsided smile. "I was shocked the first time it happened to me, too!" He gave a small, jovial laugh. But, I didn't think anything was funny about this situation. Surely, I was on the brink of alcohol poisoning.

"I'm going to keep my eyes shut until you disappear. And then I'm going to walk myself to the clinic."

He chuckled again. "I assure you, there's no need for that. But, perhaps we should get you somewhere a bit safer. Someplace that's got water rather than alcohol."

I opened my eyes, and there he still was. Pearly white teeth surrounded by a neatly trimmed goatee, his hair so sexily unkempt. What a strange day I was having. The gravity of the day's events were starting to weigh on me, and the room chose that moment to start spinning, and my consciousness chose that moment to start fading. As welcome as it would've seemed just a few moments ago, I did my very best to fight the sleep.

I forced my eyes open to stare into his. I was still disbelieving, but there he sat, looking as alive and solid as every other occupant of the bar.

I raised a shaky finger and roughly poked him in the center of his chest. He eyed me curiously, before releasing a throaty chuckle.

"Obviously you're not at all who I thought you were, but in fact the Pillsbury Dough boy in disguise!" I proclaimed, flailing my arms about, as if to further illustrate my point.

He quirked a dark eyebrow, confusion etching his features. "I don't follow," he replied.

I sighed, merely waving off his comment, before I laid my head down on the bar again. It was getting harder and harder to fight the sleep that my body was so desperately craving. But, despite my intoxicated state, the amount of thoughts racing through my head was rather mind-blowing. Literally.

It had been a hell of a day, which began with my biggest worry being that my dress was looser than it should have been after the stress of all the wedding planning. I never would've imagined that my night would end with Harry gravely informing me that Ron couldn't go through with the wedding, or the marriage. Or spending his life with me.

It was a devastating revelation to be sure, one I'm still sure I wouldn't be able to recover from. And so, I ran. I left the garden-full of our friends and families and former teachers, and did the only thing I could think of to numb me. I drank. And drank. And drank.

Never would I have guessed that I would be sitting in the Leaky Cauldron, fire whiskey coursing through my veins, and sitting next to the man that I thought we'd lost several years ago. My mind was reeling. The alcohol and the confusion of the situation was causing the bile to rise in my throat, momentarily relieving me of my sleepy state.

I sat up quickly. Too quickly. He gave me a look of concern, before I felt a large, warm hand rubbing circles on my back.

"You alright, love?" he asked, words dripping with seduction. If I wasn't on the verge of puking all over him, I surely would've melded my lips to his, based on voice alone.

I shook my head quickly, as I realized his question. I leapt off my barstool and scurried across the creaky wood floor of the Leaky Cauldron, my four inch bridal heels clicking wildly with every foot drop. I wasn't sure if he was behind me, but I couldn't trouble myself with such things at the moment. My biggest problem was most certainly getting to the outside, away from the booze and smoke smell. I needed to breathe. And empty my stomach contents.

Just as soon as the door slammed behind me, I was gagging and retching into the shrubbery just outside the seedy bar. I wasn't at all surprised when _he_ wasn't directly on my tail, following me out. After a couple of moments of sickness, I ungracefully plopped on the pavement, safely away from the scene of my embarrassment. I had just slapped my hands over both of my eyes in misery when I heard the bar door pry open.

I was in awe when my mysterious bar mate peeked his head out, observed me with a hint of concern for a moment, and then promptly stepped out in the cold with me, my white lace bridal clutch in one of his hands.

"Yours, I assume?" he asked, after he'd noticed my eyes catch it. I nodded quickly, still in a state of disbelief at the rather statuesque man in front of me. I braced both my hands against the pavement and tried to hoist myself to my feet. He only allowed me to struggle for a moment before I felt strong hands give me the final lift I needed. I tried to stand tall, but the scenery around me was spinning.

"We really ought to get you home," he muttered. "Come on, off we go!"

He kept an arm draped around my shoulders, without which I likely would've fallen backwards after a few steps.

"Where are we going? Which home?" I asked, words slurring. "The cemetery?"

He quirked a dark eyebrow at me, before he let out yet another throaty chuckle. The sound was music to my ears, but at the same time, unfamiliar. I never remembered him laughing as much as I'd heard it tonight.

"Of course not, my dear. 12 Grimmauld Place, of course!"

I stumbled along with him for a few moments, when finally, we spotted a wrought iron bench on the side of our path.

"Wait, wait, I need to sit down," I said defiantly, after we spotted the much-needed seating. I clicked over to it with him and wasted no time in getting off my feet. He waited for a moment before seating himself next to me.

We sat in silence, and perhaps it was the alcohol in me, but it was a comfortable silence. I leaned against his shoulder after he relaxed against the backing of the bench, and while he seemed surprised, he didn't seem displeased. It seemed as though the whole night had been a curious one for him, and it seemed as though I could continually read that on his features.

"I'm not exactly sure how much information I could retain right now, but if you're still here tomorrow, I will have more questions than you can bear," I stated sleepily.

"And if I'm still here, I promise to be appropriately braced for such interrogation," he responded with a small smile. I couldn't help but return it this time, but it was lazy. The situation I was in now was simply too comfortable for me to resist sleeping any longer, the whiskey in my system refused to allow it.

I could barely feel my lips moving, and I was sure that my words were going to be on the edge of being gibberish, but I felt the need to alert him. Just in case he was alive after all, and not merely a hallucination.

"If you are in fact, living and breathing, I would appreciate waking up… at home. Because, I'm going… to sleep." I'd managed. I didn't hear his response before I breathed him in deeply just before my eyes drifted shut, and felt my lips just barely turn into a small smile.

I wasn't at all sure where I would wake up in the morning, but I was so pleased to see him, to hear him, to smell him, even if it was all merely my drunken imagination. In spite of my terrible day, I was hard pressed to find a more desirable shoulder to fall asleep against.

What was left of my consciousness was doubtful that seeing him wasn't merely a realistic dream. But, even if that turns out to be the case, I'm just so happy I got to see Sirius Black one last time.


End file.
